


Bilious

by miranda_wave (miranda_askher)



Series: Colors [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, yellow - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 21:08:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miranda_askher/pseuds/miranda_wave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being around the freak tends to bring out all their little dissatisfactions. Pre-series 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bilious

He’s such a bastard sometimes. I don’t know why I slept with him. 

I say that all the time, and yet I keep crawling out of his bed at 3am, all these nights his wife’s away.

Here we are, another day with a sky like bile, another crime scene, another body, another lovely, pleasant encounter with the Freak and his sidekick, who still hasn’t got wise. Freak’s still dragging my private life through the mud, so I flip him off when the DI’s not looking; the other half of my private life’s hiding behind Lestrade with his tail between his legs.

I mean, if I weren’t sleeping with him I’d wonder if that’s all he’s got between them. Don’t know why I’ve got to be the only one with balls.

Damn, I’ve rucked up this scene tape again. And it’s starting to rain.

*

She’s such a bitch sometimes. I don’t know why I slept with her.

I say that all the time. She’s like lemons: I hate lemons, but they show up in your tea often enough and you get used to them, miss having them around. Guess that’s why I keep joining her for a pint, and taking her home afterwards, if Katherine’s not there.

Katherine’s like an apple: good, sweet. Just a little dull after a while.

So here we are, yet another dead body. Condition, position, pool of vomit; make notes, boss the photographer around. Time of death, preliminary cause: indeterminate. Never bodes well. 

I’m just giving the DI my report when I see her over at the perimeter, wet mack gleaming like an amber light: proceed with caution! Damn well wish I had. 

Oh, here’s the Freak. Wonderful. All I wanted was a cuppa away from the damp, and now I’m going to get—

“She does travel frequently, doesn’t she? Your wife. And were the cuffs police-issue, or…novelty?”

The Freak smiles his devious smile and swirls off without waiting for a reply. Ponce. I realize I’m rubbing my sore wrist. She’s suddenly beside me, whispering furiously, “Do you never think of telling him to get stuffed?”

I don’t say that if I weren’t sleeping with her I wouldn’t have to. 

I look up at the vile sky, down at my soaked clothes. It’s raining harder.


End file.
